Mommy Mouse (sequel to City Mouse)

Chapter 18: Dealing With Things

"There must be a mistake." Mouse felt dizzy. "A mistake," she repeated stupidly. "They have to run the tests again, Henry." She looked at the photographs hung on the walls of Henry's cozy den. There were no windows in this room, as it had no exterior walls; it was literally a den, a retreat, in every sense of the word. Its walls were decorated with pictures Henry had taken, of Leo, of New York, and lately, of Mouse with Leo.

Leo looked back at her, blue eyes bright. Henry's eyes, Henry's smile. Even the line of his little jaw, all Henry's, or so she'd believed. She swiveled her eyes back to her husband, who knelt before her as she sat in the chair, his face tortured.

"They did, honey," Henry said, his voice soft. "That's why they took two swabs. One's a back up, in case--in case there's some confusion, which there can be, with kids sometimes." He grasped Mouse's hand. "The results were the same. No shared genetic material." He searched her eyes.

"Dr. Bernstein said they could do another full work up if we wanted to take Leo directly to the lab in New Jersey to get some blood drawn, but she didn't see the point, these tests are very accurate," he concluded.

He rose, pulling Mouse with him, and led her to the chair behind his desk. He sat and patted his lap, inviting her to sit, and she did, so they could both look at his computer, which was open to the genetic testing site. 

He'd opened all three of their profiles so they were side by side. Hers, on the left, which read "Cameron, Martha Louise," showed what she expected. She was a mixture of Great Britain, Ireland, and Europe, with a bit of Native American thrown in.

"Gardener, Leo Henry," and "Gardener, Henry Robert," showed similar circles, with mixtures of Europe and Great Britain, but Henry's showed a circle for "European Jewish" that didn't show up in Leo's at all. 

"This isn't the important one," Henry said. "This just shows ethnicity, you know? I mean, you and I have overlap in our ethnicity." He clicked on another window, which showed lab reports, with lines going up a vertical chart, like on crime shows. "This is me," he gestured to a group of lines. "And this is Leo." He gestured to another chart. "See the comparison?"

And even to Mouse's untrained eye, it was obvious that there was no overlap at all. The charts simply didn't match. She saw the bottom of the report, right above the signature of the lab tech.

Probability of paternal match: 0%

"Oh, Jesus," she said despairingly. She put her hands to her face, and felt tears coming. She tried to stave them off, for Henry's sake. He didn't need a stupid, useless, pregnant crying wife right now, he needed someone strong, rational, and calm. 

"Henry, I'm so sorry," she said. She didn't know what else to say.

"I've been looking at this stuff for the past few hours," he said, his voice gravelly with fatigue. "Trying to make sense of it, trying to make something rational out of it, you know? Just trying to figure out what the fuck happened, for one thing." His voice became soft with disbelief.

"I mean, did she cheat on me? And if she did, was it a one time thing? Or an ongoing affair? Does this man know about Leo? Was she attacked by someone? I know it sounds insane, but this whole situation is insane, you know?" He ran his hand through his hair. "Or was there a mix-up at the hospital? And maybe Josie never knew, either?" He turned to Mouse, who could only look back helplessly. "You hear about stuff like that, you know? They make movies about it.

"And should I try to find out? I mean, should I investigate?" By now Mouse could tell Henry was talking more to himself, just needing to get the words out. No response was required of her but to be there and listen. "Do I need to find out who Leo's real father is?